The Fight
by Apprentice08
Summary: After a disastrous double date, which Sherlock had agreed to go on as a favor to John, the famous blogger is livid with his best friend. Sherlock tries to explain, and John tries to understand, but nothing becomes clear until Sherlock admits to his feelings for his friend. John has a choice to make, either accept those feelings, or leave Sherlock behind.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Sorry guys, I know I have other stories I need to be working on, like Bring up Brahms and Body Snatcher and my other JohnLock fic, Don't Look Back but I had a dream last night that was pretty interesting. I wrote this exactly as my dream happened. The only thing I added was the detail of their expressions. So, if it feels OOC that is why, I literally did not modify this at all so you are essentially reading my dream from the boy's points of views.**

 **WARNINGS: Not many, just that it's JohnLock and there is very mild intimacy between two men, don't like don't read.**

 **This follows everything in the series up to just after TFP and from there it is obviously AU because as much as JohnLock is loved by many fans I don't think it will every go that route.**

 **Side Note: For anyone who enjoys both JohnLock and Sherlolly (as I do) I finished my 5 year old story Beastial Urges. I started it just after TRF in season two. So you will start reading and be like WTF but just consider it an extreme AU that takes place five years ago. (Smiles nervously and winces) yeah.**

 **Side Note 2: Also, this IS a one shot but I may add another chapter or two if I come up with other ideas or have another dream. But for now, it is what it is. So, if you are interested in reading more just add to your notification list and if I post another chapter someday you will know.**

 **Anyway, Enjoy!**

 **The Fight**

John was fuming, absolutely livid and he stomped up the stairs in front of his flat mate who was skuling behind rather reluctantly.

They entered into the main room of their flat and John yanked off his coat and threw it on the floor, being so mad that he couldn't be bothered to hang it up properly.

Hands went to his hips and he paced angrily, his lips rolling together as his head swung wildly back and forth.

Sherlock, for all his brains and logic could think of nothing to say aside from the obvious, "You're angry."

"You think? No, mate. I am way beyond angry, I can't even be called livid at this point-"

"Well, there are plenty of other adjectives to pull from-"

"I am humiliated, ashamed, I am god damned pissed off, Sherlock!" John shouted as he turned to face the taller man and squared off.

"Tell me, right now, what the hell was that about! And don't give me any of that crap about sentiment and being bored! You….you _promised_ me!"

Sherlock just stared back at him, John noticing he had gone visibly pale and his gloved hands were fisting tightly at his sides.

"No, you aren't going to shut down, you are going to answer me! You were doing so well, I could see the progress, you were so much better about taking other people's feelings into consideration, at censoring yourself!

Sherlock looked at him with a face awash in regret yet he still said nothing, "Talk to me, right now, or so help me I will walk out that door and I won't set a foot back here until you tell me what that was about!"

Sherlock's mouth opened and then closed, his fingers finally unclenching only to twitch quickly and John could see the man was thinking, trying to find his words and so John sighed, tried to pull back his anger and said softly, "Alright, mate. Let me put this in perspective for you. For the last eight years I have been your translator, I have gone above and beyond the call of duty to make sure that you could communicate with the people you needed to so you could function within the realms of normal society. I speak fluent Sherlockian, I know how you think and I know what you are trying to do and say at any given time. I know you, Sherlock. So, just say what you want to say and I promise, even if it doesn't make sense to you, it will make sense to _me_. But you better say something, give me something or I'm going to leave."

Finally Sherlock stepped forward, slowly, he removes his coat, scarf and gloves before hanging them up tentatively and turning to shut the door to the hall.

He seems reluctant to turn and face John but eventually he does and the John has never seen Sherlock look so torn, so utterly worried.

His anger cools just a little more and he takes a breath, "Just talk to me, let's go through the night one step at a time." John offers and Sherlock seems to find this solution agreeable and nods quickly, "Yes, let's." he says.

"Alright, now, two days ago you agreed, as a favor to me to go on a double date. I expressly told you beforehand I had no expectations of you to take your date home nor did I require you to give her any indication you were interested in seeing her again."

"Yes." Sherlock agreed matter-of-factly as his eyes jumped from the floor up to John and then back down.

"All I asked- _All_ I asked of you was to go with me, be polite to June and not make me look like an utter ass in front of Maris."

"Yes." Sherlock once again agreed quickly as he bit his bottom lip.

"Good, now that that is settled, please tell me, how that date ended up the way it did, tell me how- no, tell me _why_ you just humiliated me and those poor women for no other reason than your own inferiority complex. Tell me, after the extensive conversation we had, where I specifically told you all you had to do was make polite conversation for two hours and then take June home, would you verbally rip both of them apart before turning that vicious tongue of yours on me!"

John's voice had been getting steadily higher the whole time he was talking, his finger jabbing through the air, first at Sherlock then himself and then to the floor. His cheeks were burning red and his whole body felt hot but he stood there in front of Sherlock like a determined boulder, unmoving in even the most brutal rock slide.

Finally Sherlock seemed to make a decision and said quickly, "I did you a favor."

This was, however, not the right thing to say, as John's thin slip of control he had been struggling to maintain ripped open and he yelled out, "Bull shite!"

Sherlock looked like a kicked-puppy for only a second before he ran fingers through his hair and decided he wasn't going to take the man's temper at his actions lying down.

"Not at all, June was an idiot and Maris was only interested in you because you are famous."

"What?" John seethed.

"Well, I'm famous, but she knew enough about me from your blog and the papers to know better. You on the other hand are always by my side and in being so, get some semblance of popularity due to your association and of course your often mentioned, and rather lackluster blog."

John's voice was a low gravely deadpan when he asked, "So?"

"So? What do you mean, so? She was using you!" Sherlock barked in disgust.

"I know she was using me, I was counting on it!" John fumed and he turned away from Sherlock and this time he ran hands through his own hair.

The new style he had been wearing the last year required the hair in front to be longer than he was used to, so when he ran his hand through his hair the quafe was destroyed and what was left was nothing more than a mess of fringe that hung over his brow.

"What?" Sherlock asked in confusion as he cocked a brow and stared at his friend.

"I was using her too!" John nearly screamed.

"I'm confused." Sherlock said in shock.

"Clearly!" John barked as he swung a hand through the air and shook his head, "I don't understand, what could you possibly have used her for?" Sherlock asked.

John stared at the man in utter shock before he said in loud and rather frustrated disbelief, "She wanted her fifteen seconds of fame and I wanted to get off!"

"You were, using each other?"

"Oh my God, eight years, ten girl friends, a wife and child and you still don't understand me at all! Yes, I wanted to get off with her!"

"Why? She was attractive but repulsive all at the same time, like a double headed snake, not the best choice if you were planning to-"

"I wasn't planning anything! I just wanted to fuck her!" John finally yelled at the top of his lungs, no longer willing to spare Sherlock from the blunt and honest truth.

Sherlock stood there staring at John with shock written across his face as if John had somehow said the most uncharacteristic thing he had ever heard. Given their history, well, mostly John's history prior to his late wife, it shouldn't have surprised the man, and yet, Sherlock looked… broken somehow.

John realized he may have come off more than a little crass and so tried to explain, "Sherlock- look, I loved….love….I still love Mary. I always will, but, it's been nearly a year and I am….I'm lonely." John sighs out and then he turns and walks over to the couch where he plops down and leans back, closing his eyes and rubbing them with his fingers.

"I'm lonely and bloody well sexually frustrated, mate. I'm not trying to replace her, I couldn't….not ever...but I need….I need something. With someone. I need….companionship, I have gotten used to….I am having a hard time going back to….how it was before. I just need, someone...anyone. You just don't understand."

Sherlock seemed to hesitate a moment before he said softly, "I do understand."

John looked at him in surprise and cocked a brow but Sherlock didn't explain his understanding, he simply went on, "But a woman who is a whore for the spotlight? Who was planning to be gone when you woke up in the morning? Even though she had planned to regale the media with her tales of bedding the famous blogger, John Watson? No, I don't think you would have been so keen after. You don't want nor do you deserve a bedmate who isn't there when you wake up." Sherlock said in a low voice as he slowly walked into the kitchen and returned only seconds later with two glass tumblers of ice and a bottle of brandy.

John sighed as he felt Sherlock sit down next to him and the blonde man eyed the bottle and glasses with a small smirk before he shook his head, "You don't want a one night stand, John. You know it and so do I." and John rolled his head along the back of the couch to meet Sherlock's gaze and his smirk grew before Sherlock said softly, "I have known you for eight years, I speak fluent, John Watson. You might not be ready for anything long term or serious, but you are ready for a companion. Even a short term one, no less than 3 months and no longer than eight."

John lets out a chuckle before he sniffs and rubs a hand down his face, "Oh god, I'm so stupid."

"Yes, and horny. But I won't hold it against you." Sherlock says with a smile.

John laughs a little more before taking a glass tumbler which Sherlock had just poured.

"Sorry, Sherlock." was all he said, no other words were needed from him and Sherlock understood he meant for everything he had said.

Sherlock took a sip of his brandy before he looked at his friend and said, "Me too." and John knew Sherlock meant both for being a tit at dinner and for ruining the man's chances, though both men knew he had done the right thing, John wished the man could learn the art of subtlety.

 _Utter cock._

Still, as the warm brandy went down that pang for companionship was still there. Since Mary had died he had felt it, but it had only gotten stronger after the last year. After Sherrinford, after their lives all went to hell and they once again had to rebuild it from scratch.

"Here's to you mate, for having my back, even when I don't want you to." John said, raising another glass to his friend, "Mmm, always will, especially when you don't want me to."

The need he had didn't dissipate but it numbed slightly and he felt a little less depressed and far less lonely now that it was once again just he and Sherlock.

"That's pathetic."

"What is?" Sherlock asked.

"You are the worst wingman ever." John murmured before he took a slightly larger sip and leaned back against the couch, the glass dangling dangerously between his knees as he mused for a moment and then asked, "Sherlock?"

"Mmm?" the man asked, already pouring himself a third finger. It was odd, but of all the alcohol in the world, and how little the man drank, John had taken notice that Sherlock truly enjoyed brandy and in the last six months had taken to keeping a bottle on hand. He would pour a half glass before bed and sip on it over the course of an hour.

"Tonight, at dinner, right before Maris slapped me and June stomped on your foot, you said something strange."

"Mmm, what was that?" the man said as he took a sip and gazed at the label on the bottle which was in his hand.

"You said it to Maris. At the time I thought you were just being an inconsiderate prat, make them mad so they would leave, but-" and Sherlock suddenly grew uneasy, his eyes glancing to his right before setting the bottle down and looking away.

"You said and I quote, I have been driven to tasting Brandy before bed, to calm my nerves and soothe my aches-"

"Yes, it was a segway to me telling her she should pick up a hobby that doesn't include messing about with my blogger and using him for fifteen seconds of fame." Sherlock said quickly and John noticed the man's hands suddenly tightening on his knees.

"Right, well, what aches were you talking about? Are you in pain? Do you need me to-"

"No. I am fine." Sherlock says quickly, too quickly, and John can see he has hit a nerve, usually this is the time he lets it go and stops pushing. But given he is now three tumblers in and about to pour each of them a fourth he decided to press just a little more than his normal sobriety would allow.

"You sure? Cause you've been through a lot lately. I mean, with your sister and all that, it's understandable if you have a hard time sleeping, we can talk if you-"

"It has nothing to do with Eurus." Sherlock says quickly before wincing and then he jerked to reach for his Brandy before downing it in one gulp.

"Well, what then?" John asks, taking a more casual sip from his own glass and studying his friends face closely.

"I'll think I've had enough male bonding for one night, if you will excuse me-" but as the man stands John reaches out and grabs his wrist.

He stops Sherlock from walking away and the brunette looks down at John's hand before slowing peering up to look at his friend from under a messy mop of hair.

"Let go." Sherlock says in a rather deep tone, the type of tone that indicates he is not in the mood for such things. It's his warning tone, but John had never been scared of it. One of the few who isn't.

So, John stares back up at him but says softly, "Not until you tell me."

Sherlock growls out in frustration and tries to pull away but John sets his glass aside and stands, moving closer and looking into Sherlock's suddenly cold blue eyes.

"Sherlock-"

"I don't want to talk about it! I can't talk about it! It's not something you would want to know. Trust me-"

"Not something...I'm your friend Sherlock. If you are in pain, if you are being driven to the bottle I want to know why, so maybe I can help!" John says with annoyance.

"Let this go." Sherlock snaps and he goes to turn away but John places a hand on the man's shoulder in hopes of pulling him back around.

"Don't touch me!" Sherlock suddenly snaps and he backs away, now standing several feet from John and staring at him with angry and yet terrified eyes.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" John suddenly asks, red flags going off in the back of his mind that this type of avoidance only ever happens when Sherlock has gotten back into the sweeties.

"Just, don't. Keep your distance and don't concern yourself with my well being, at least, not about this."

"Like Hell I will." John says angrily before he walks up and grabs Sherlock's arms, ripping off the man's suit top he yanks open the man's sleeve but is stunned when he expects to find fresh track marks but sees nothing save old pale scars.

"I don't understand." he says and Sherlock yanks his arm away to redo his sleeve.

"You wouldn't. You can't, you never will and it is something I have to accept. I mean, I do accept it, it's not your fault, I just, haven't figured out how to deal with my problem so-"

"What is the problem?"

"Like I said, you can't help me." Sherlock says more firmly.

"Try me!" John yells daringly.

"Just leave it alone!" Sherlock yells back before he turns and heads towards his room, but John isn't about to let it go. He storms after his friend and takes him by the shoulder, yanking him back before shoving him against the door, his arm pressing into the man's throat.

"Tell me!" John screams at him.

"I love you!" Sherlock suddenly yells back.

John stills and the anger fades from his face instantly, the silence thick as they stare at each other and John swallows before he says slowly, "I, I love you too mate, so just tell me what is wrong. I want to help."

Sherlock growls angrily and says, "Oh for Christ's sake-" and Sherlock raises his hands to John's face and yanks the man towards him, pressing his lips to John's for several seconds before releasing him and then shoving John away.

The shorter man stumbles back and Sherlock half turns away, staring at the dividing wall between the sitting room and the kitchen as he waits for John's reaction.

No sound comes, so Sherlock decides to speak, "I meant it. When I said I understand. I never wanted to tell you. Ever. I never planned to. Especially after you got married. But, after Sherrinford, things changed. I've changed, John. I'm lonely too. I ache for companionship and understanding, to not wake up alone anymore. But, the universe has deemed you to be the only acceptable partner for me, and as you are not inclined to entertain the idea of the male sex, my only option is to take a glass of brandy before bed and be nothing more than the best friend I can be. Which includes chasing off those who would try to hurt, use or abuse you."

More silence, but Sherlock can't take it and so he manages a subtle glance over to his friend, who is just standing there staring. He had expected John to leave, yell or pretend it never happened but instead he just stands there and looks at him.

"Please, say something." Sherlock asks softly as he clenches his eyes shut and turns his head away.

"I don't know what to say." John says quickly in response, his own voice quiet but even, a little nervous, nervous in the sense that he doesn't know what to expect or that he is trying to measure how Sherlock is feeling right now.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't ever going to….to tell you. I know you don't….feel that way. I don't know why I told you….why I did that. Can we just pretend-"

"Sherlock-" and the man looks over at his friend, "Come here." John says softly and Sherlock slowly turns to face him and walks over to stand before him, looking down onto the open and unassuming face of his best friend.

Sherlock sees uncertainty in those eyes, a look of being uncomfortable and confused and the tears that come make Sherlock feel disgusted with himself, "I'm sorry." the man says in a soft tear choked voice, "Please don't leave. I promise I won't ever do it again." his voice is a whisper, his eyes continuing to shed small thin tears as his breathing increases, "I can control myself, this doesn't have to change our friendship, our dynamic. We can still be this, the best parts of us, together, as friends."

 _Control yourself, regulate! Stop babbling! Soldier, be a soldier now. Give John the stoic and comfortable relationship he wants to have with you. Friends, best friends and nothing more! Behave!_

Sherlock looks down, wanting to hide his face so badly, embarrassed and his heart hurting worse than it ever has before. It feels like someone is clenching it in a fist and squeezing and he finally understands what his brother meant all those years ago.

 _Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. All lives end, all hearts are broken._

Sherlock hears John breath out hard through his nose, a hand coming to his hip while the other runs down over his face and John chews on the inside of his cheek.

"Come on." John says and he walks over to the couch and takes up the spot he had just vacated.

"What's going on?" Sherlock asks, desperate to know what John is thinking, what he is going to say.

"Just come here, sit, now." John says in his no nonsense tone, the tone he uses when Sherlock does something a bit not good.

Sherlock slowly walks over and sits down next to him, though he leaves a good foot between them.

John takes up the bottle and pours both of them a deep one, only stopping the pour when the amber liquid hits the halfway point, before setting the bottle aside and then handing a glass both to himself and Sherlock.

John takes a long drink before he looks down and studies the glass and the remaining drink within.

"Please say something." Sherlock says again, though his voice is so soft it can barely be heard.

"Damn it." John sighs out.

Sherlock looks away, knowing the man is trying to work up the courage to shoot Sherlock down in the nicest way possible.

"Sherlock-"

"Stop this-"

John looks at him with narrow eyes, "I haven't said anything yet." John bites out irritably.

"I know, but I know what you are going to say and I don't need nor do I want to hear it. I am more than capable of controlling my feelings and maintaining our relationship as professional. No need to worry about breaking it to me gently." Sherlock snaps out bitterly.

"Doesn't sound like it." John snorts into his glass.

"Don't. Don't mock me. I will do anything you ask of me, I will even give you as much space as you need. But don't be so cruel as to dismiss my honest attempt to offer you a way out of this….utter mess I've just made of it." and he downs the rest of his glass, feeling the warm and soothing liquid dull how own aches rather well.

Another sigh from John tells Sherlock the man isn't going to take the out and that he does want to discuss this, "How long?" John asks.

"How long what?" Sherlock parrots.

"Now it's your turn not to be an ass. You know what I mean, so you better just bloody well answer the question."

Sherlock sighs and leans back against the couch, closing his eyes and saying softly, "Three years."

John thinks on this a moment and then says in surprise, "The fall."

"Mmm." Sherlock confirms.

"Before or after-"

"One month, three days and six hours after I left. When I realized I was going to be gone for so long, when I realized I couldn't bring you with me, when I realized I might never see you again."

John digests this and snorts a derisive laugh, "Bloody idiot."

"Yes." Sherlock agrees.

"No, not you, me." John says in defeat.

"What? You? How are you-"

"For not seeing you, Sherlock. For not knowing. I thought I understood you, have you figured out. I had no clue, and I am supposed to be the one who understands such things."

"Ah, well, we all miss things." Sherlock musses and he then leans forward and grabs the bottle, topping off John's tumbler before filling his own.

"Getting knackered tonight are we?" John asks with a rather disproving tone.

"Yes, well, I did just tell my deepest secret to the man with whom the secret is about. Possibly just ruined the only true friendship I have had since I was a child and alienated my best friend. It's a twenty drink problem and honestly I don't want to deal with it."

"Fair enough." John says and for the next ten minutes neither speak. They simply sip on their respective drinks and lean back against the couch as they stare straight ahead.

The silence isn't awkward, nor is it uncomfortable. But there is something hanging between them in the quiet of the flat and it isn't addressed until John finishes his drink and grabs the bottle, pouring one last drink before he downs his quick and then sets it all aside.

"Alright-" John starts with a sniff as he rolls his lips together and wipes a hands over his mouth, "Let's give it a go." and he suddenly reaches for Sherlock and the man leans away with large eyes.

"What?" Sherlock asks in shock as he eyes the man who is now staring at him in a rather inebriated way. Though Sherlock knows John isn't drunk, more like border line tipsy and Sherlock is just behind him.

"This-" John nearly slurs as he motions between himself and Sherlock, "Come on, let's go, I want to try. Just, here, kiss me-" the man says leaning forward a little and sniffing again.

"Are you...are you sure?" Sherlock asks as his eyes dart back and forth between John's relaxed face and the open space of the flat.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I mean, why not?" he says softly and Sherlock says in a tone that would indicate it's obvious, "You're not _gay_."

"Well are you?" John asks him and Sherlock stills, thinks about it a moment and then says, "No."

"Ha! See! Knew it!" John says as if he just caught Sherlock in a white lie.

"It's unique." John offers as he moves closer and Sherlock just stares at him, "What is?"

"Us, this, our friendship. We are best friends, who love each other, gay or straight is just a thing-"

"A thing?"

"A thingy thing-" John offers, using one of Sherlock's often expressed indifferences to the topic at hand.

"Just, come, do it, kiss me." John urges as he smacks Sherlock's thigh lightly, "Come on!" and John shores up, as if he is getting ready to go into battle.

Sherlock's eyes stare the man down, his hand slowly setting his glass on the coffee table before he to turns to face his friend, their knees suddenly touching as Sherlock swallows and leans in.

"S'alright, just do it." John murmurs as he closes his eyes and Sherlock licks his lips and then closes the space between them slowly, their lips coming together for a provisional and cautious kiss.

Sherlock doesn't do anything else, simply kissing John before pulling back just a few inches, John's eyes opening to a half-lidded gaze and Sherlock asks in a rather nervous voice, "Well?"

John stares a moment and then leans back in, a hand coming up to cup Sherlock's face before pressing the man back and coming to rest on top of him. The following minutes are silent save for the sounds of their lips pressing and gentle breaths.

However, Sherlock finally breaks the silence when John's lips stray from his mouth and slide down to his throat, "John-" Sherlock whispers out as his breathing intensifies.

"Mmm?" the man asks, not stopping his ministrations as a hand runs up Sherlock's side and the detective groans between clenched teeth, "I think you need to be very specific in exactly how far you want to take this, as I have three years worth of want and am having a very hard time not-"

"Touch me, do whatever, it's an experiment." John pants out past lips that are still sucking and kissing at Sherlock's tender flesh.

"You've been warned." Sherlock says.

"Yes, now, touch me you great lump!" John orders and Sherlock rolls, bringing his legs up on the couch and pinning John between himself and the backrest.

"Yes, sir." Sherlock whispers and then it's quiet.

 **PAGE BREAK**

John wakes up naked on the couch, a body behind him and pressing to his back. The morning light is murder on his head and he groans and turns over carefully, burying his face into Sherlock's chest and pulling the blue blanket up over his head.

"Bloody Brandy." he hisses and then his brain catches up with the situation he has found himself in when a hand comes to his back and gently starts to rub. A lazy touch that is indicative of an only half awake mind.

A faint "Mmm." comes from the man next to him and John blinks quickly several times to clear away the blur and sleep before he peeks up from his hidden position and sees Sherlock's sleeping face just above him.

"Sherlock." he says to himself in shock, his eyes then falling to the man's collarbone as he registers that they are both naked, groins now pressed together and their lengths both showing the signs of morning blood rush.

"Hell." he winces before sitting up and looking around the flat, thankfully empty with no sign of a tea tray from Mrs. Hudson.

 _Thank God._

John sits on the edge of the couch now, the blanket still over his lap and he simply studies the coffee table as he recalls the events of last night and despite the fact he feels rather uncomfortable with what just happened he smirks a little and shakes his head.

Suddenly a hand comes to his shoulder, legs shifting to rest on either side of his own as a chest presses to his back and arms wrap around him.

He feels lips on his shoulder and then his throat and John, previous discomfort not withstanding, he gives the barest of moans at the touch of those lips and he feels his body suddenly relax into the hold.

 _Feels good, damn good to not wake up alone, to have someone here with me, to be held again, to feel real heat and skin….hot breath on my neck._

"Good morning." comes the tone of thick affection from Sherlock and John realizes he needs to tread very carefully, for while Sherlock is obviously very happy and comfortable with the turn of events John still has to sort some things out.

However, in this moment, he feels a happiness he hasn't felt in a long time, a contentment he has been longing for and the pang of loneliness is gone. So, instead of telling Sherlock to stop, instead of standing and moving away, he raises a hand to hook onto Sherlock's forearm and turns his head slightly, "Morning." he murmurs softly.

A kiss comes to his jaw, then his temple and one of Sherlock's hands come up to press his head further towards him before lips join and John can't help the hum of approval that rings up from his throat.

"Mmm." Sherlock hums back, "I agree."

John smirks against the man's lips, "You know we are going to have to talk about it. I will need time to sort it. Make sure it's….okay. Yeah?"

"I know." Sherlock muses before he presses his forehead to John's and says, "Take all the time you need, but please, just give me this one moment. I want to be able to memorize it, this one moment, in case-"

"In case I change my mind?" John asks as he meets Sherlock's pale blue eyes and sees in them so much emotion he feels slightly overwhelmed.

"Yes." Sherlock concedes.

"How bout I give you two?"

Sherlock looks at him in surprise before he gives a happy laugh and John smiles back before he leans in and kisses him, both falling back to lay on the couch, Sherlock pulling the blanket up over them and the two remain indisposed the rest of the morning, learning each other in a whole new way, neither knowing what was to come but ready enough to wait and see.

 **A/N: There it is, a new one-shot. Hope you liked, read and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thought of another chapter. It's tame, no real warnings, just a relationship between two men, no lemons. Kissing and stuff.**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Can't Take My Eyes Off of You**

' _You push me, I don't have the strength to, Resist or control you, So take me down, Take me down, You hurt me, but do I deserve this, You make me so nervous, Calm me down, Calm me down'_

 _-Maroon 5, Never Gonna Leave This Bed-_

John stood on the far side of the crime scene, speaking to Greg as Sherlock crouched down next to the body that was about twenty feet inside the tape line.

Greg was filling John in on all the semantics that Sherlock often dismissed while the detective studied the body and made his deductions.

As Lestrade talked John nodded his head in understanding though he wasn't sure he was actually comprehending anything Greg was relating to him. Instead his eyes were watching Sherlock work as his head kept bobbling and he would murmur affirmations.

John's eyes continued to stare and the man heard some vegery about Greg needing to go talk to Sally, at which time John just nodded him off some more and then turned fully to watch his friend.

It was a warm day for early fall and Sherlock had removed his coat and scarf, yanking on the blue nitrile gloves, rolling up his sleeves and scurrying about the body like a bloodhound. John watched as in the afternoon light the man examined every inch of the corpse, keen eyes intense and focused.

Sherlock was doing his best to hide his excitement and fascination, hands confident and sure as they searched and explored. John's eyes carefully studying the man's shoulders, arms, thighs and even his backside though that only lasted a second before his eyes jerked back to Sherlock's face.

In the back of his mind John heard faded conversations from two days prior and he brought fingers to his lips, nearly stabbing himself in the eye with his pencil as he mused on the words that had been swirling around in his head.

 _Mmm, do you like that?_

 _I don't know do I?_

 _You tell me-_

A shiver runs up his spine as he shakes his head and tries to remove the sepia imagery of him and Sherlock naked on the couch, blanket pulled high to block out light and hands exploring in a rather timid yet hungry way.

 _Yeah, Sherlock, I can't- nope, not going to work for me-_

 _You sure, doctor? I deduce your body says different._

 _Haha, no- Sherlock don't- hahaha, no, mate, I mean it- I don't think this is going to-_

 _Come on, let me deduce somethings about you, Mm? Might as well feel it out. Was your idea after all, you so sure you don't want me to try and convince you otherwise- I have more brandy-_

… _..Yeah, alright, come on then-_

"Bloody hell." John sighs as he feels heat come to his face and he looks away from his friend and instead glares across the street only to spy a cafe.

"Right." He says with relief as he wanders away from the crime scene and through slow moving traffic to get in line. Grabbing a coffee for both him and Sherlock, he turns back but stops, knowing the man hardly ever eats or drinks while on a case but seemingly wanting something to do besides stare at his friend. He doesn't want to think about the fact that at the ripe old age of thirty-eight he had explored his sexuality with his best friend and once again flatmate.

The discoveries had been startling and John wasn't sure how he wanted to handle or face them. "Bloody knob." John muses to himself as he shakes his head and wishes in this moment he could just forget what he had done.

Yet, every time he looked at his friend the only thing he felt was a warm burn of affection and fondness in his chest and a small smile would come to his face as his eyes watched Sherlock work.

 _Care for some tea?_

 _Yeah? You gunna bring it?_

 _Mmmhmm._

 _Sans the shirt if you please, I've had enough of watching your buttons strain for one lifetime-_

 _Jealous?_

 _What, of your broad shoulders and stick thin figure, hardly._

 _You wound me-_

 _Yes, that I will do, just pass me the gun._

 _Someone's snappy this morning._

 _Always, don't go letting on, Sherl._

 _No! Absolutely not, I refuse!_

 _Janine got to._

 _Not that again, for the last time-_

 _For a case, yeah I know….Sherl..._

He'd never flirted with a man before, perhaps it was easier with Sherlock because they had their own form of playful banter already. Flirting wouldn't be that far off from the jibes they usually slung at each other anyway.

Maybe that's why it was so much easier then he had expected. Sherlock and him had an established relationship already, had been through so much, had shared certain aspects of themselves that normally would be kept under the radar from those closest.

They had been like brothers, sometimes Sherlock acting the more petulant of them, the kid brother then. John the parental brother, yet now, it seemed that brother wasn't the right term and friend didn't seem like enough.

 _You know we are going to have to talk about it. I will need time to sort it. Make sure it's….okay. Yeah?_

Yet, they haven't talked about it and Sherlock has been so well behaved. There are small things John has noticed in the last two days. In public it is like it never happened, Sherlock treats him no different even though John has been rather empty headed on this case and unable to focus the rest of the time.

However, when at home, while Sherlock does not pursue any intimate attention from him, the man does seem to touch him more. A lingering hand on the shoulder, lips coming closer to his ear when he leans over John's shoulder as the man types.

Otherwise, Sherlock has let sleeping dogs lay and John isn't sure whether he is happy about it or not. Doesn't know what to do about it actually. If Sherlock had been a girl, say a woman named Shirley…..

 _That's stupid a hell, John. But just, okay, yeah go with it….if Sherlock were a Shirley, still the same personality, just with… breasts and a vag…..different parts….and we had enjoyed a night of sexual exploration how would you be acting now?_

"You'd be all over him...her….all over _her."_ John muses softly out loud.

 _Cuddles on the couch, stealing kisses, maybe a nice smack to the behind on the way out the door….._ and John chuckles before the smile drops from his face as he realizes he is coveting a woman who doesn't exist.

 _But it's not a woman named Shirley, it's a man named Sherlock, someone you have known for years and have a preexisting relationship with. He was the Best Man at your wedding….he is a bloke…..a dude….a male…..bloody posh boy with no experience….._

"Who says he has no experience, seemed experienced last night-" and John feels a presence next to him and looks to see a woman staring at him strangely as she adds some cream to her coffee.

John smiles and nods before saying,"Just my... dog trainer…..lots of experience with….dogs-" and he instantly starts walking before he makes a bigger creepy asshole out of himself.

"Christ." he murmurs as his eyes scan the street and watch for the cars that continue to move at a snail's pace passed the crime scene, cop cars and other such things clogging the roadway.

He makes it to the far side and realizes, as he moved closer to the tape, that Sherlock had replaced his coat and scarf and is removing the blue gloves.

John walks up, neither Sherlock nor Greg sparing him a glance as he stands there holding the coffees. His eyes stare at the space before him, not really seeing anything until finally he is addressed and he looks up between Sherlock and Greg, both staring intently.

"Hmm, sorry, what?" John asks.

"Your notes, may I see them?" Sherlock asks and John's eyes grow wide, "Huh, uh, noooo, no I don't think they will be….huh….helpful just now. Ahem, Maybe later, here, coffee for you….and I'll just wait over here, shall I?" and John moves away quickly, taking a swift drink from his coffee before he comes to a bench off to the side of the small park that is a colorful rainbow of green and yellow and stares off.

"He alright?"

"Hm?" Sherlock offers as he stares after his friend, John peeking a glance his way before looking off in the other direction.

"He's been acting strange all morning, like he's got something on his mind. Something happen with baby Rosie?"

Sherlock sighes, "Don't worry about it. I will have your murderer by tonight, you just go off and do whatever it is you do while you wait for me to solve the case."

"Right. Time for a beer." Greg says as he slaps Sherlock on the back jokingly before he turns and calls out to Donovan to start wrapping things up.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and then crosses to John, "Alright?" the detective asks softly as he comes to stand before his friend and look down at him, hands pulled tight behind his back as fists clench.

John seems to be looking everywhere but at him until Sherlock calls to him softly, "John."

"Mmm?" the man manages a glance up to him before looking away, he clears his throat and stands, sniffing and running a thumb under his nose, "Yeah, fine, just fine." and John continues to scan his surroundings and avoid eye contact.

"Look at me." Sherlock says softly and finally, after another few seconds of hesitation John meets Sherlock's eyes and in that moment of looking John's always stoic and rather indifferent face melts and a very small hidden smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Sherlock spies it but says nothing, gives no indication he suddenly understands why John has been avoiding looking at him.

"Is everything alright? Do you need to go home?" Sherlock asks as he glances around to make sure they still have their privacy.

"What? No, I don't…..don't need need to go...anywhere." and Sherlock sees John's slip growing as the affectionate smile takes a firmer hold and the detective realizes that John has been struggling to keep things professional, respectable and above all else, quiet.

"Hmmm, I'd not mention a thing if I didn't realize the problem, but.. you are smiling at me."

John instantly looks away and once again that stoic mask of indifference slides into place, "Yeah, I know, Sherlock, that's why I haven't been looking at you. Can't seem to help it. Don't know what I'm on about but, it's best if I just keep my distance until the case is done, until we are back at Baker street."

"Yes. Like I said, perhaps it's best if you go home. You are distracted-"

"Because we haven't talked-" John snaps suddenly before he stops himself and looks down, shaking his head irritably, "Right, yes, I'll just….go home."

"This is an open and shut case, all I need is the proof which I should be able to locate in the next hour or so given the trains are on time."

"They are never on time, save for the 2:30 to Lancaster, best hurry off….maybe I should come, I mean….only an hour...we can-"

"Look at me." Sherlock orders gently and John does reluctantly, his jaw setting hard yet when he looks at Sherlock the barest trace of a smile hits the corner of his mouth and he leans a little closer, "Best go." Sherlock suddenly says as he steps away and John instantly nods and rubs a hand down his face, "Yeah, best. See you at home."

"Right." Sherlock says as he watches John walk off, his own face remaining passive though he looks down to the coffee in his hand and shakes his head in dismay and then he is on his way to Charing Cross Station.

John enters the flat to spy a note on the door and he pulls it down to read.

 _John, took baby Rosie to Meena's with me for the evening, will return in the morning. Sherlock, I want more than an hours notice if a case is going to last longer than you told me. Hope you can work it out. Love, Molly._

John crumpled the note angrily before he pressed it to his forehead and groaned, "You cock." he grumbled as he realized Sherlock may have lied about the case only taking an hour or two.

Suddenly his phone makes a noise and he reaches into his pocket angrily before seeing it's from Sherlock. He hesitates before another text notice pings onto his screen and John reluctantly unlocks his phone and reads the messages.

 _Sorry. SH_

 _We can talk when I get home. SH_

John wants to respond with a rather crass comment on the man's behavior and handling of the situation but honestly what can John expect. It isn't like Sherlock has done this before, nor has John and in all honesty it really is his own fault.

Being unable to control his response when looking at Sherlock like some doe eyed school girl, showing an affection that is not only unexamined but also dangerous to their way of life makes it rather hypocritical for John to be angry at the man who _could_ control himself.

John is embarrassed as well as uncomfortable with this turn of events but he decides to move on with his night as if everything was okay.

He elects to take a shower and allows the heat to wash away some of his stress and confusion. Going up to his room to dress in something more comfortable before coming back down, making a sandwich and a tea tray. He relaxes in his chair and eats slowly, musing on the newest chaos that has been introduced into his life.

John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, possible sexual partners or at the very least explorers of things better left unsaid.

His mouth grows dry as newspaper headlines run through his head and he realizes that he is not in the right mindset to have this discussion with Sherlock.

His head turns towards the couch, now vacant of two nude and exploring bodies.

 _I deduce, you enjoy when I touch you-_

 _Mmm, yeah, I do- don't know...its nice...but I feel….uncomfortable about it._

 _Understandable….but I also deduce, you like when I kiss you….right here…._

 _Oh god...heh...hell…._

 _And stroke fingers along your-_

 _S-Sherlock…._

 _You like my voice too….and how I smell… it comforts you_

 _N-not true…._

 _Mmm, very true, in fact, you also like when I suck on your shoulder-_

 _E-Enough….just….quiet._

 _But you don't want me to be, you like when I describe things I am doing-_

 _Shite-_

 _Just tell me one thing you like….I could deduce it all….but it's best you admit to something on your own._

 _Is it?_

 _Yes, tell me, John, what do you like-_

 _I l-like…..I like…._

"Nope." and John stands abruptly, setting his half eaten sandwich aside and downing his tea before he heads to his room. He stops though, looking down the hall to the closed door waiting in the shadows.

He glances around and then slowly approaches, his eyes locked onto the handle. He stands outside it for a moment before he takes the knob and opens the door. The room beyond is dark and so he reaches a hand out and clicks on the lamp next to Sherlock's bed.

The wave of familiar scent that hits him crashes around in his head hard and he looks about the room, spying all his friends personal items, feeling how this room always tends to be warmer than the rest of the flat.

He takes a few steps in and when no alarms go off, the British Government doesn't show up and his phone doesn't chime with some all knowing text from Sherlock he sits on the edge of his friends bed with a huff.

"Jesus Christ. What are you doing? Get it together, John. Jussst-" but he trails off when he looks over at Sherlock's pillows and slowly reaches out a hand.

 _You like my voice…..how I smell…. It comforts you..._

He takes up the pillow and pulls it into his lap, staring at it a moment before he closes his eyes, "Egyptian cotton, the posh bastard." John muses before he rubs down his face with tired fingers only to stop when he realizes his hands suddenly smell like-

John sniffs his fingers before he raises up the pillow and stares a moment longer and then brings it to his nose while inhaling deeply.

"Oh god." he murmurs into the pillow as he recognizes the smell of familiarity, of his friend. Its near overwhelming because now it isn't just the smell of Sherlock, the man he works with….it's the smell of the person he was last intimate with, the last person he kissed and touched…..the person whom he now looks at while smiling faint smiles of affection and warmth.

"Huh-uh, not good, so not…..gawd so good." and John is suddenly leaning over, pressing his legs up and onto the bed while burying his face in the pillow and sighing rather contently because with this familiar pull comes comfort. The comfort he has been missing since he lost his wife, the woman he loved so deeply, despite her past, her mistakes, her beautiful flaws.

His chest radiates a burning warmth and he smiles ruefully at his own flaws, his own mistakes and how cruel he had been, could be, how tired and…..not okay he was.

Though, truth be told, John was not altogether sure if he was not okay with what happened between him and Sherlock, or the fact that he was alone with a growing daughter, or the fact that he had enjoyed it, all of it, the rush that was his life seemingly growing more addicting the more out of control and unpredictable it became.

Yet, Sherlock was always a constant, so where his friends and his daughter. The only constants in his life and John wondered if he decided to expand his experiences with Sherlock would he really care about anything else aside from his constants.

 _Definitely not. All that matters is them, anyone else can fuck right off._

He presses his face more firmly into the pillow and lays there spinning through his thoughts and feelings on what has become of him over the last few long years. Sometimes smiling, other times frowning, but overall a face of passive contentment.

A lone tear travels down from his eye at some point, the result of such mixed and confusing feelings. Not necessarily over Sherlock, John can admit at this point as he lays on his friends bed, smelling his pillow that it's because he wants to, he misses him, he...wants him to be here.

It doesn't bother him, and the discomfort at the thought it less intrusive, but….he is…..scared.

 _It's not like you to be scared, John. Just relax, I don't hold any expectations, I just want to help you understand what you might want-_

 _It's not that easy Sherlock, but I think I….yeah….I like this….here with you….just touch me, do what you want…. Quickly now._

 _We have time, John. No need to rush._

 _Do we?_

Eventually he reaches out a hand to slide the radio next to Sherlock's bed towards him, spying the red numbers that tell him it is nearly ten p.m.

John sighs and realizes he should leave soon, but he stays in this spot on Sherlock's bed and presses the clock back to its spot, his finger accidently hitting a button and suddenly the thing blares to life.

 _You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you-_

John stills his movements and stares at the clock with a rather disturbed bend in his brow, "Hell no-" he whispers and smacks the thing with his hand.

 _The night we met, I knew I needed you so, and if I had the chance, I'd never let you go-_

"Bloody hell, Sherlock. What stations _are_ these." and John sits up and goes to grab the thing when he hears a deep baritone ring out from the doorway, "Old ones."

John jumps, look at his friend as his fist slams down onto the clock and he stares in terror.

 _Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near, just like me, they long to be close to you-_

"The hell is wrong with this thing!" and John takes it up and rips the card out of the wall, "Jesus." he breathes heavily as he feels heat washing across his face and his eyes stare near traumatized at the radio in his hands.

"Vile. Just, wrong." John says tossing the thing back onto the night stand before he glances up at Sherlock from under his brow and stares.

"You're on my bed." Sherlock muses and John looks around him, "Oh! Right, yeah, just came in to...make sure you had….sheets and….that your light….worked."

"I do and it does." Sherlock says, those pale blue eyes watching him with near amusement though his face remains neutral.

"Right. Course they do, just, Mrs. Hudson took my...sheets….and the bulb was….out."

"Really?" Sherlock asks with a rather lackluster belief.

"Must be an imp." John says quickly in jest, he instantly moves forward, shimmying past Sherlock and out into the hall before he feels a hand on his wrist and he looks back in surprise.

"I thought you wanted to talk." Sherlock says softly in a rather curious tone and John is slowly pulled back and pressed between Sherlock and the doorway.

"Yeah, I do, I mean...I did….but...well-"

"Well?" Sherlock asks as he leans a little closer and John clears his throat and tries to look away, not wanting to get caught by those eyes. The eyes that have suddenly become much to compelling.

Yet, Sherlock raises a hand to his mouth and uses teeth to remove one of his gloves, the exposed hand coming to cup John's cheek and he shuts his eyes hard, swallowing and going still, "Look at me, John." Sherlock near whispers, the glove having been dropped to the floor.

John hesitates before opening his eyes and meeting Sherlock's gaze, his stress filled face melts and that damn smile slowly slips its way onto his face.

"Thought so." Sher murmurs before he leans in and gently presses their lips together.

John's mind goes blessedly blank and he inhales deeply through his nose to take in the man's smell, a mixture of London's night air, sweat, cigarettes and cologne.

It was a smell John knew all too well, though now it held a whole new meaning and reaction in his mind.

"Run a bit, didja?" John asked as his lips rubbed against Sherlock's and a very focused heat rolled in his belly and ran up his spine and into the base of his brain.

"A bit." Sherlock mused before his lips slid away from John's and came to kiss at John's throat, the shorter man giving a rather desperate and throaty sigh, his head sinking back to rest on the doorframe behind, "S-Sherlock, mmmm, Sherlock- wait, mate, wait-"

"What?" Sherlock asks against his throat in a rather lusty tone.

"We need to talk." John manages though as Sherlock's fingers are still pressing up the man's shirt and running over his stomach and hips John's hands instantly come up to grip the man's coat and gently try to press him back.

Sherlock stills, save for his lips which continue to brush across John's throat as he talks, "Does the aftermath of this talk include me no longer being able to touch you?"

"I d-don't think so….no….why?"

"Because I wasn't going to partake in any conversation-" and Sherlock's hands run around to John's back, pulling him closer, "that would prohibit me from being able to touch you."

John's eyes press shut before he moans, "Oh, hm, Sherlock, we should talk….before….."

"After, we should talk _after_." Sherlock coaxed, "I've been thinking of that look you gave me all day-"

"Distract you?" John asks as Sherlock sucks and licks at the place between his neck and shoulder.

"Mmm."

"Sorry."

"Needless to say, we can talk-"

"After, yeah, alright, just….go on, move into the room, shut the door…..and the bed…. Need the bed now." and soon the two are falling down onto Sherlock's sheets and becoming twisted in each others legs and arms, John pressing Sherlock's coat off as the brunette tugged at John's shirt and they hummed into each other's mouths.

"Wait, Sherlock, waitwaitwait-" John started and Sherlock pulled back to look at him and John said quickly, "No sex, not yet anyway, I need more time to-"

"You mean, sex is a possibility?" Sherlock asked in surprise and John stared at him a moment before he cleared his throat, "Uh, well, I mean, ahem, I just assumed you would want-"

"Yes." Sherlock said suddenly and John stared at him for another second before he turned his head to look at the ceiling and stare, "Right. Alright…..of course….just….gotta wrap my head around having sex with another man."

Sherlock leaned in and pressed his lips to John's ear, "Not another man, sex with _me_ , it's different and you know it." he whispers darkly as he runs a hand up John's stomach.

John's brow furrowed and he sucked in a breath, "It is. Somehow, I don't mind it, not with you."

"Mmhmm, now, stop talking, I want to see that face again." And Sherlock's deep voice drew John to look at him and as the lay there next to each other, eyes locking and both in the safety of their home, John's mask slipped away and that soft affectionate smile rolled across his lips, eyes shining a little and Sherlock felt his lips part in surprise.

"My good Doctor, I don't believe anyone has ever look at me that way before."

"What way is that?" John asked as he continued to stare into Sherlock's eyes and marvel at how quickly his thoughts and feelings changed when Sherlock was touching him verse when he was by himself and left to his own devices.

"With love."

The smile fades from John's face but he leans in and murmurs against Sherlock's lips, the brunette giving the softest moan at the contact, "I like….I like when you deduce what I want. Tell me, Sherlock. What do I want?"

Sherlock stares a moment and then says softly, "You sure?"

"Yes. Tell me what I want."

Sherlock smiles ruefully against John's lips, "You want this, with me."

"Well then, best give it to me."

Their lips meet, hands explore and in these moments of private silence, their body mold and conform to each other, becoming nothing but what they both want which is each other.

 _So come here and never leave this place, Perfection of your face, Slows me down, Slows me down, So fall down I need you to trust me, Go easy, don't rush me, Help me out why don't you help me out-_

John's hands reaches out and smacks the alarm clock, the neon red numbers reading seven in the morning.

"Ass." John mused sleepily as he realized Sherlock had plugged the infernal thing back in. He snuggles back down into a more comfortable position and his hand presses across the sheets only to feel an empty spot next to him.

His eyes open and look at the spot Sherlock should be, only to see noone and John slowly pushes himself up as he studies the vacant spot and tries to recall why the man would be up so early on a Sunday.

A noise comes from beyond Sherlock's door and John instantly reaches for his pants, yanking out his phone and sending a text.

 _What's going on? JW_

He waits a moment and then quickly opens Sherlock's text when it comes in.

 _All clear, just me and young Rosemund, Molly came early and Hudders is out. Breakfast and coffee, if you are hungry. SH_

John lets out a sigh and then a small smile before he stands and puts on his t-shirt and pajama pants, exiting the room quietly and moving down the hall to find Sherlock laid out across the couch, young Rosie resting on his chest and reaching a hand to play with the man's curls.

"Morning." John says as he stands there looking at the two, the perfect picture of morning calm. A soothing pulse goes through him and the warm affection spreads through his chest.

"Morning." Sherlock murmurs as he cracks an eye and glances over at him, "Coffee?"

"Yeah, I got it." John says as he walks over and picks up Sherlock's empty cup. He hesitates a moment before he brings a hand to Sherlock's forehead, pressing the main's hair out of the way and placing a soft kiss on his brow.

"Thank you." he offers softly and Sherlock looks up at him with an open yet soft expression before simply giving a hum in acknowledgment.

John looks to Rosie and smiles before he stands and moves to the kitchen, "It was that little treat I did with my fingers wasn't it?" Sherlock called after him.

"Shut up." John says tartly as he walks into the kitchen, his face growing warm and his head shaking.

Sherlock smiles after him before looking to Rosie, "Yes it was, your father enjoys fingers in his-"

"Not another word or so help me I will put this coffee mug in the same place!"

Sherlock just chuckles before taking Rosie in his arms and sitting up, holding her close and looking into those big beautiful eyes, "Let's hope….that you don't wait so long to explore your sexuality as daddy did, hm?"

"What are you saying to her?" John calls from the kitchen and Sherlock just smiles and shakes his head, those blue eyes finding John when the man returns with two cups of steaming coffee, John coming to sit next to them, placing the mugs on the coffee table and then taking his daughter from his partner.

They look at each other and finally, they both smile, satisfaction, comfort and contentment alight in both their eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just wanted to add a short little thing, not long, more for fun. A bit more lemony in this chapter, just hints at it, abstract but obvious, no extreme detail.**

 _"Wait, Sherlock, waitwaitwait- No sex, not yet anyway, I need more time to-"_

 _"You mean, sex is a possibility?"_

 _"Uh, well, I mean, ahem, I just assumed you would want-"_

 _"Yes."_

 _ **Hands tug and pull, the clothes ending up in a pile on the floor….**_

 _"Right. Alright…..of course….just….gotta wrap my head around having sex with another man."_

 _"Not another man, sex with me, it's different and you know it."_

 _"It is. Somehow, I don't mind it, not with you."_

 _"Mmhmm, now, stop talking, I want to see that face again….My good Doctor, I don't believe anyone has ever look at me that way before."_

 _"What way is that?"_

 _"With love."_

 _ **Now the hands press up against skin, slide and press, thighs being shifted apart, stammering words of uncertainty and fear…..**_

 _"I like….I like when you deduce what I want. Tell me, Sherlock. What do I want?"_

 _"You sure?"_

 _"Yes. Tell me what I want."_

 _"You want this, with me."_

 _"Well then, best give it to me."_

 _ **A coaxing voice, a soft chuckle, lips burning a trail along his throat, a hand gripping him, fingers straying down against hot flesh.**_

" _Wait, we should take a break, we should s-slow-_

 _ **Fingers press in, message, a back arches and eyes squeeze shut as a mix between a humiliated moan and aggressive growl trembles up from his throat, passed raw lips-**_

" _Doooown, ohmygod, S-Sherlock….don't….too much….it's….t-too much…I don't want-"_

" _You really do-" he says softly in his ear, "I wouldn't have unless I was sure."_

 _ **Fingers pressing harder, moving in rhythm, hands fisting sheets, near whining, moaning again and he can't stop the noises…..the feeling…..the want is rough, the need to reach the end….and then teeth find the tender skin of his throat and suddenly his body is jerking, white lights…..he goes deaf for just a moment but can feel the lips that catch his, that swallow the yell that escapes him. Visceral, raw…...real….**_

 _His mouth speaks words before he knows what he is actually saying, his hand leaving the bed to slip fingers into dark curls and pull the man back down, pressing his face to the aching spot on his throat as his voice cracks and he says with a certain level of defeat and acceptance, "Do it again."_

 _ **Hands on his back, kneading muscles, gently holding hips, lips on his shoulder, neck, hands running up his stomach, fingers hooking around shoulders and then more pressure, force….delicious and demanding… fingers in his head, gripping, yanking his head back, noises….such sweet noises, so many licentious sounds.**_

" _Fast-er-" he whispers out as his body jerks._

" _Harder?"_

" _Both, Sherlock...now….do it now…." he pants._

 _ **Talking, they are always talking, working on it, feeling it out, communicating...pressing boundaries, learning each other….and those hands burn so badly, he thinks he will always be marked though he has checked the mirror many times only to find nothing.**_

" _Don't stop-"_

" _A ridiculous notion- too late to stop….won't….even if you asked-" the man pants._

" _Don't…..stop….." John repeats._

 _ **Sometimes it's crass and crude, wicked in more ways than one, brutal and cruel and near violent. Not often, but sometimes….**_

" _Too hard!"_

" _Stop talking-"_

 _ **Sometimes it's passionate and deep, filled with desire and love. They are considerate to each other and soft, gentle…..tender…..sometimes….**_

" _God, I missed you-"_

" _Next time we take Rosie, I don't want you away from me, ever again."_

 _ **And sometimes, sometimes the emotions are set loose, they both never speak of these nights, they don't want to acknowledge when these nights happen….it's still too new, too fresh….too real….. Neither wanting to talk about what was said the night before….not wanting to breech that line of experimental indifference they have been living in the last six months…..and yet…..sometimes…...even when they won't acknowledge it….sometimes….**_

" _I….love….you…..please, don't ever leave me, I'd die….just…..touch me, all over, I want to feel you touch me all over, don't want to forget what you taste like...feel like…..don't ever leave-"_

" _I'm here forever, I'll never leave, never again, open wider for me, I want to feel every inch, love. My love, my John….just…..deeper, want deeper….I love you, love you….I'm here…..I'll not leave…._

 _ **It's rhetoric, but they spew it readily on those nights, the nights they don't like to talk about….so rare….yet….it's a sort of expressive chaos, when their innermost thoughts finally come out, it's brutally vomited honesty, how they really feel, their codependent and addictive friendship so much more now…..and sometimes…..well…...all the time….when they each secretly think of their private times together…..it is those nights….the ones they don't talk about…...that they think of…...and cheeks tinge pink…...lips give the barest smirk….hearts beat just that bit harder and both take a deep breath and move on with their day.**_

" _You cock! I told you not to piss him off! You just couldn't keep your bloody mouth shut! He would have talked if you had just-"_

" _Oh don't be an idiot! He wasn't going to talk, best to just let the British government try to get it out of him."_

" _They why the song and dance, you bloody-"_

" _I just wanted an opportunity to punch him."_

" _..."_

" _Just laugh, I know you want to-"_

" _Nope, I really don't?"_

" _Mmm, you really do. Come on, just a snicker."_

" _Cock."_

" _Fine then….prude."_

 _ **And some things…..no matter what happens…...never change…..**_

" _Just…..calm down. It's only a party-"_

" _Yes, with Mycroft, I refuse-"_

" _You can't refuse!"_

" _Why can't I?"_

" _You're being knighted!"_

" _Eck, again, so pointless-"_

 _ **It is strange…..but it works…...and in the end, it doesn't matter what's normal…..all that matters is what is right. And, being with that person who completes you, even if they are the most obnoxious and overly righteous…..egotistical…..posh…...rude…..adoring…..loving…..dickhead on the planet.**_

" _John? John! Where's my thing! My thingy thing, the thing with the stuff….my eyeballs! Where are my eyeballs!"_

" _In the fridge!"_

" _They aren't!"_

" _I don't care, I'm going to the store!"_

" _No, come back, where did you put my-"_

" _Later! Give Rosie a wash and put her to bed!"_

" _But my eyes-"_

" _Are lovely, now shut it and go wash our daughter!"_

" _Cock-"_

" _Sucker!"_

" _Damn him, he's learning...this just won't do-"_

 _ **In the end, it's perfect….and neither would ever change a thing. Not for all the lovely eyeballs in London.**_

 **A/N: Just wanted to add one last little bit to this, cause I could. Read and Review!**


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